


Soft Touches and Fragmented Memories

by ArchmageAmell



Category: Dragon Age, Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Budding Romance, F/F, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Girls being Gal Pals™, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Other, maybe...., what's better than this?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-16
Updated: 2018-07-16
Packaged: 2019-06-11 06:50:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15309798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArchmageAmell/pseuds/ArchmageAmell
Summary: A rare peaceful evening leads to small revelations of the past and soft touches.





	Soft Touches and Fragmented Memories

Soft, warm, and affectionate. That’s what she felt from her touch.

 _Amell_.

As she laid the side of her head in her lap, she felt her long and slender fingers combing through her hair, as white as snow.

 _Amell_.

Her voice. Her sweet accented voice. She loved the way she says her name. She loves the way her hums vibrate through the air; through her chest. From the moment she met her in that tavern in Lothering she could feel that voice fill the air with bliss and comfort.

“You didn’t fall asleep in my lap, did you Amell?” she said with a loving grin plastered across her face.

“I told you once before that you didn’t have to call me that. Aria is just fine.”

“What if I told you that I like calling you Amell? Are you not fond of your surname?”

“It’s not that, I simply… Find it odd that you’d call me that. We’re friends now, are we not? You should use my first name then.” Aria explained.

It hadn’t been long since they all left Lothering, with the chantry lay sister, Leliana and the supposed criminal qunari, Sten. Aria found both individuals to be strange in their own ways. Sten, was a large qunari man who apparently did not mind being imprisoned. She’d read many passages from the circle’s libraries about the kossith, but it wasn’t until recently that she met one. She still wondered where his horns were, but decided that it’d be better not to ask. Leliana seemed like an average person who has devoted herself to the chantry, yet Aria could tell that there was something ‘off’ about her. Was it a common occurrence that a chantry lay sister hears the voice of the Maker and is told that she must venture on with people she’s never met before to prevent the end of the world? She always found herself to be exceptionally skilled at reading people, and she could tell that there was a hidden truth about Leliana.

“You consider me a friend? Already?” Leliana questioned. As Aria confirmed, she let out a soft chuckle. “So I suppose what they say is true. Circle girls really do things differently.”

“What does that mean?” She was told not to worry about it as Leliana continued to drag her fingers through her hair.

“You have such beautiful hair. So soft and voluminous. You’d be even more alluring if you grew it longer.” Her comment forced a smile on Aria’s face. She’d enjoyed having shorter, shoulder-length hair though. It was much easier to manage. In the circle tower, it was always recommended by the elders that apprentice mages should keep their hair short as a precaution. It was far too often that one would accidently set themselves, or the people around them, on fire during practice hours.

“My mother said the same thing once.” The words came out of Aria’s mouth without her thinking. Why did she say that? Leliana remained quiet for a moment. It was strange, as she was always either talking, singing, or humming.

“Well, she was right.”

Another moment of quiet. Bickering could be heard in the short distance, Alistair and Morrigan no doubt. They were both cooking dinner tonight, a type of stew, and the frivolous arguing was expected from the two. The cackling from the fires set throughout the campsite also filled the nighttime silence. “Tell me more about her, your mother I mean.”

“I… Couldn’t tell you much about her honestly… I don’t have very many memories.”

“Is that so? It seems like we have yet another thing in common.” Leliana smile grew wider. “I was so young at the time. I can only imagine that would be the case for you as well, being a mage and all. I hear that it’s possible for a mage’s abilities to manifest as early as age 5. It’s unfortunate really. Is that what happened to you?”

“I don’t know” Aria shifted her position in her lap. Her eyes now met with Leliana’s face against the violet sky. “I don’t remember much of my life before I joined the circle.” Leliana tilted her head in curiosity. “I was 10 when I joined the circle. I was told that I was found not too far from Ferelden’s circle tower by a small group of templars, coming from a patrol in a nearby village. Apparently I was dirtied and unconscious. When I came to I was surrounded by the enchanters and healers, and of course templars. I was asked so many questions. But I couldn’t answer any of them,”

“Because you had no memory.” Leliana attempted to predict Aria’s thought.

“Well, yes. But also because I couldn’t speak. No words could come out and I could hardly move my mouth, no matter how hard I tried. It didn’t last too long, just barely under a year in fact. But it was still… Strange…” Aria stared at the sky and bright stars as she recalled that odd time in her life.

"It sounds like some sort of amnesia to me.” Leliana’s voice suddenly became serious, yet sympathetic. “I’ve read that it usually happens after head trauma. Do you think you could’ve been hit in the head somehow?”

“I… Don’t think so…” Aria didn’t believe that was very likely, but how else could she explain not being able to recall the first 10 years of her life? “It’s not something I worry too much about though.”

“Well, can you tell me what you actually do remember? About your mother?” Silence followed the question. Aria was deep in thought. What did she remember? Memories would come up every once in a while, but they’d be forgotten again not too long after. “What did she look like?” Leliana said as she tried to prompt some type of memory.

“She was tall. Well, maybe not tall to others, but tall from my view, of course. She had long black hair it was thick like mine. Her eyes were the same color, I think.” She paused, then Leliana placed her hand on the back of Aria’s.

“What else? Was she beautiful, like you?”

“I thought was she was beautiful. I remember being envious though. I wanted her black hair and black eyes. They were so… Normal. When people stared at her, they were stunned by her beauty. When people stared at me, they seemed… Frightened.”

“How could anyone be frightened of you? Your hair looks and feels like the clouds! And your eyes, they are so unique! I have never seen anyone with such a light tint of blue in their eyes!” Aria was surprised at her assurance. There was only one other person in her life who brought up the rarity and beauty of her hair and eyes. That person… No. She could think of them now. The past she knew was embedded in a distant horizon now. It’s funny really. In reality, it wasn’t too long ago that she was nothing more than an average circle mage. She never knew so much could change so briefly.

“She gave me a red cloth.”

“What?” said Leliana, once again tilting her head in confusion.

“Um. I don’t have it now, but I remember we were in a garden one day. It was vast and colorful. And she gave me a small, red silk cloth.” Aria said, cautiously, hoping that Leliana wouldn’t dig deeper.

“Oh, well that’s wonderful!! Why don’t you have it now? You didn’t… Lose it did you?” Aria closed her eyes. She should have figured that Leliana would ask that question. She was as inquisitive as she was beautiful. She felt her hand on her own. It was soft and warm, as expected. Leliana slid her fingers in between hers and gently grasped them. Aria copied her movements. Leliana didn’t say it, but Aria knew that she was aware of her lack of comfort. She didn’t have to say it. She could evoke her very thoughts through touch. That’s was one of many of her skills.

“Your mother. What is your memory of her?” asked Aria. Despite the comfort given to her, she still wanted to fill the silence.

“It’s surprisingly similar to yours actually.” Said Leliana as she let out a chuckle and slightly raised her and Aria’s hands. “We were near the Waking Sea in Orlais, and there was a beautiful garden filled with an array of colors and shapes. One would be entranced all day if they were to step into it.” Aria listened to the sweet bard’s words as she observed her hand in Leliana’s. Her hand was so smooth and pale. How does one obtain such soft skin? “She was in a white dress made of linen and smelled freshly washed.” Aria continued her focus on the story and their hands. She noticed how appealing their hands looked, clasped together, under the star-ridden dusk sky. “One flower she gave me was Andraste’s Grace. Have you heard of it?” asked Leliana.

“No, I don’t believe I haven’t.”

“It’s a beautiful thing, really. It’s white with a red center. The red tapers off as you get closer to the end of the petals. It’s not too rare, some may say it’s not even the prettiest flower they’ve seen. I’m sure there are flowers that are more rare and vibrant, but this one… Is special to me. It is the first and only memory I have with my mother.”

“Only?” said Aria, as she directed her eyes toward Leliana’s.

“Unfortunately. She passed when I was very young.” For the first time, Leliana’s eyes drifted away from Aria. Her sight then drift toward Sten, who was directly across the campsite. He was cleaning the sword Aria had gifted to him that he would not accept until Aria’s plea became unbearably irritating to him.

Aria could feel the sorrow emitting from her. This emotion was seemingly unlike Leliana. She could never stand to allow the people she cared about feel such sadness around her and not do anything about it. She sat up from her lap and stared into her eyes. Leliana also stared as she was anticipating Aria’s next movements. It felt like a boundless time of fastened heartbeats, uncertainty, and desire. Then, without warning, Aria moved closer and tightly wrapped Leliana in her arms. Surprised, Leliana accepted the gesture and returned the embrace. They both warmed each other with comfort and assurance. They both lost someone or something, one way or another, at some point in time. Despite that anguish and grief, both knew that they weren’t alone, as they would have each other for here on out.

An unexpected noise interrupted the intimate moment. They unlocked from each other and turned toward the sound. It was Alistair, awkwardly hovering over them.

“Uh. Dinner’s ready. If you two aren’t busy or anything. Because, you know, you to look somewhat busy…” his voice tapered off.

“Morrigan didn’t fix it this time, no?” asked Leliana, humorously.

“She helped, but I made sure she didn’t ruin anything.” said Alistair. Leliana raised up from the ground and held her hand out.

“Come now. Before Alistair’s ‘special stew’ gets cold.” Her smile somehow brightened the nearby fire. Aria accepts her hand and stands. The three walk over to the center of the campsite, where the ever so broody Morrigan and the solemn Sten were already at. As they approached, Morrigan seemed in a much broodier mood than normal at the moment, Aria noticed, most likely from the merciless teasing she received from Alistair about the last time Morrigan had attempted to cook dinner.

As they came around the steaming pot full of stew, Aria and Leliana noticed Morrigan’s gaze.

“What is that?” the witch said in that typical thoughtless tone of hers, her arms still crossed. They both noticed that she was referring to their hands, which were still clasped together. They didn’t even notice it until it was loudly pointed out by Morrigan, and Alistair and Sten now both staring meticulously, waiting for an answer.

 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!! This is the first fanfiction that I've publicly posted since.... 2008-ish? Anyways, I hope you enjoyed this one shot!


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